Watching
by fandomgirl
Summary: And all he could do was watch her. Spend his last days watching her.


He watches her. 

With a wistful look. Because he can't stop thinking about her. Especially since he crushed his lips against hers. He wishes he could take it all back, all his feelings and put it in a little box and pack away everything he feels for her. Maybe then he wouldn't watch everything fall in part of his very own eyes. Maybe then he wouldn't be so hooked on a feeling. On his feelings for her. She's so damn beautiful, his mind spins whenever she is near. He thought he would outgrow this silly fascination for her, but it only grew within time. He could have had a million women all trying to get his mind off of her, and she always lingered. She always loomed in his mind's eye. 

He watches her pick up some files she's dropped, and he can't help but watch how some of her hair falls in front of her eyes; he watches her huff impatiently and blow the strands of her "pesky" hair out of her eyes and then he goes back to what she was doing before she was 'rudely' interrupted. She's got such a fire for things, even the smallest of things. A fire that burns brightly in those eyes of hers. They burn with an intensity, that most people can't see. But he does. He always sees everything about her. 

She's not the scared young woman, she once was. She's grown up to be an even more lovely woman. And it's dawned upon him, that he loves her even more now. When he looks at her, he can remember how she once was. Scared, jumping at every little thing. Hiding behind her brains and love of books. Nervous smiles. Fidgeting here or there. He remembers the girl who had the crush on Angel. The one that struggled to get use to this world. He remember the girl who didn't look at him like he was a monster after what he did when he was infected with Billy's blood. He sees the one girl that had been able to break his heart over and over. And surprisingly he doesn't hate or even dislike her for it. It's not like she could handle it. Sometimes he wants to be selfish and blame her for not seeing him. Sometimes he wants to be just as cruel as Gunn can be, and blame her for everything she didn't see. But he can't. One look at her beautiful face, and he can't ever blame her for what her heart couldn't see. 

The heart is a painful thing. And quite oblivious. She didn't see him, while this whole time he couldn't help _but _see her. While she rambled on about Angel, he thought of how it was to kiss her. When she was off in love with Gunn, all he could think about was running his fingers through her soft hair, taking in her scents, brushing his lips against her own. When he was in the hospital, abandoned by his friends, nearly killed by someone he once looked up to, all he could think about was how his heart ached for her. When he was a loner in a world that he had been so familiar with, he wondered what she was doing. When Lilah was in his bed, his mind wandered to the lovely girl who had captured his heart but never gave him, hers. 

He tells himself he shouldn't watch her. It's not very nice, and a very bad habit. But his eyes are transfixed on her. He occasionally turns away, whenever he hears footsteps crossing across the office he has claimed as his again. But once the threat is gone, he casually turns back to watch her. He supposes he must scare her sometimes. His obsession with her is unhealthy. Any sane man would have realized she didn't want him and move on. But not him. He never let go. He just continued to hold on. Lord, she must think he was completely insane, which was probably not all that incorrect. But he couldn't stop. She was like the forbidden fruit. He knew he wasn't supposed to touch it or want it, but he did anyway. He never got the taste of this fruit, but he wanted it. Yearned for it. Ached for it. Desired it. He wanted to pick it off the tree and keep it to all himself. He wanted to take his time tasting it. Tasting every sweet inch of that forbidden fruit. He wanted to devour in a way like nothing else. 

He never said he was sane. 

Suppose somewhere along the way, he lost track of his sanity. Darkness had tried to devour him. She was the only thing that kept him alive. Her light had led him back here. Okay, actually, the end of the world did, but that is besides the point. He would be foolish to say she was completely innocent. She wasn't. Some people perceived her to be. But she had her dark side. It matched his own. She saw into his dark side, and he saw into hers. And unlike some people, he welcomed it. With open arms. 

She's putting the files away now, glances over to him, he looks away slowly. That's not the first time her eyes had traveled over to his. They never say anything. He is now looking through a book of his, acting like he's researching. Looking for a way to restore Angel's soul. But the words are just blurry lines, his mind is so muddled with thoughts of her, he can't even concentrate on pretending to concentrate. He thinks of his lips against hers, thinking of the kiss they shared. He didn't steal that kiss unlike what some people let themselves think. He would never steal something from her. That kiss had been shared. She knew it. He knew it. He remembered every way she tasted to his mouth. It had been brief, but he could still remember the way she tasted. The way she felt. And it was driving him insane. He wanted more. 

He suppose he should feel guilty. And in a way he did. He never wanted to cause trouble between her and her once boyfriend. A man that was once his best friend in this world. But he didn't feel guilty in all the ways he should. He didn't feel guilty because he had a part in their break up. He didn't feel guilty that his friendship was probably ruined forever with his once best friend. He only felt guilty because she was so conflicted, so confused and hurt in all of this. 

She is the only one he didn't want to hurt. 

When it came to her, everything else didn't seem so important. He could lose all his friendships (not like they were really there anyway), only if it meant having her. He'd come to the conclusion a long time ago, that he'd treat her like she was meant to be treated. He'd understand her. They could talk about books and old movies that they loved. They could talk about equations. He would smile as she pushed her glasses up or messed with her hair. He'd kiss her in places that would make shivers go through her whole body. She'd kiss away all his pain. He would take all her insecurities and put them in a little box and take them away from her. She'd make him see that he still had a place in this world. Together they would make all their pain and doubt go away. Together they could start over. 

But right now, all he has is watching her. Speaking of - he turns his gaze back to her. She's now working on her laptop. Clicking away, her eyes transfixed on the screen. And he can't help but want to just reach out and touch her. But she's too far away and he fears he'll scare her away. Only if she knew how much he wanted to touch her. To just touch the side of her face. Or her hair - or just something of hers. To just feel her. To run his finger tips over something that belonged to her. 

His father once told him, he'd never find someone to love, that would love him back. Among years of hurtful words, he had remembered how he said he would prove his father wrong. But the fact was, he never found love - period. Cordelia was a foolish crush. Lilah had been passionate lust. But love - love was something that ran from him. Love hid from him. Love wouldn't let him touch it. Love was her. In the lovely image of his beautiful angel. The one that believed in him, when no one else did. He could just reach out and steal her away from this world, but he lets her work at her laptop. Love doesn't like him very much. What hurts most, is that his father's taunting words are true. 

She's chewing on her bottom lip in concentration, something she always do. He knows all her little quirks. He would never call them her faults, because she doesn't have any. Not in his eyes. He found perfection in her. She's an angel, but with broken wings. He has seen those broken wings and he yearns to fix them for her, but she doesn't let him near her. Those wings stay broken, and they keep her from flying away from this prison she's trapped in. 

Sometimes he can see her somewhere else. 

Somewhere that isn't Los Angeles. In this damn hotel. 

He sees her having a better life than them. She had the chance. She chose this life. And it makes him ache. She doesn't deserve this sort of life. She could be something different. She could be anything she wants to be. She could be the best scientist around, instead of the research girl. She could be figuring out the most difficult science equations instead of running to answer the phone. Answering the phone with her somewhat chipper voice, "hello, you've reached Angel Investigation, we help the ..." and so forth. She could be something bigger than this. But this is her place, her home, and he supposed he wouldn't want it any other way. 

The hotel is so quiet. He's just waiting for something to jump out of the shadows and destroy it all. He never thought he'd be back here and sitting here, while he watched her, seemed all too surreal. Deep down, he missed it. Missed being a part of his old life. Where he could have closed his eyes and still know where everything is. He used to have a family built on friendships. He had lost that. And way down inside of him, he missed it. And he wishes it wasn't ending soon. The end was coming whether they liked it or not. They could say a million times that they would stop it, but a part of him knew that was just a lie, and that the end was on it's way. Ready to devour them all. 

And all he could do was watch her. 

Spend his last days, watching her. 

He can see the weakness etched in her eyes. She's been crying before she came downstairs. And he wants to make things better. But he just watches her. 

She's no longer the young woman who was so lost in this world. The woman who looked up to him, much like how he had looked up to Angel. They all grew up. She's no longer the girl who thought everything could be answered in a book. She used to believe all the problems of this world could be fixed within time. Something took away that and whatever did, it never gave it back to her. She's no longer the young girl that had fallen in love with Charles Gunn. The girl who had warned him to never come back to Angel Investigations, in fear of Angel trying to kill him. She's no longer the girl who once said she knew what sort of a man he was. A good man. 

He can't help but want to take away all her pain at her growth, at her change, and make it better. 

But he can't move from his seat. 

A part of him knows he could just glide over there and things could change between them in an instant. But he doesn't dare move. 

She's looking at him again, and instead of beckoning her over, talking to her. Begging for her to let him in her heart, he turns back to his book. 

And when she turns away again, he's back to watching her.   


*** 

"Wes?" 

She walks into his office with hesitant footsteps. You could practically hear the hesitance in her voice, as if she wonders if she run or stay. And looking up from his book, he sees that exact same doubt etched in her eyes. When he looks up at her, she sort of takes a step back. He smiles gracefully at her, calming her nerves. 

"Yes, Fred?" 

She walks further into his office. **His **office. She looks around, finally noticing how it has finally looked like his. Books scattered all over the office, some open, some closed. She smiles faintly. It's beautiful. The office is a mess, everything a horrible mess; no one would find anything in this mess, and it was completely beautiful to her. She could pinpoint everything in the office without even taking the time to guess. She lets out a small laugh, causing Wesley's eyebrow to raise up in her direction. "Sorry, just admiring what you've done with the office." She said in a soft tone. 

"Haven't done anything, really. Just made a big old mess." 

"It's a beautiful mess." She informs him, quickly. Making him smile at her, he's looking at her questioningly; as if asking why she came into his office in the first place. "You watch me." She says, and it's not a question. He knows that. She knows that. It's a fact. 

"I do." 

"All the time. I always feel your eyes on me. It doesn't matter what I'm doing, I can feel your eyes on me." 

"Does that frighten you?" He asks in his unusually soft voice. It's usually so rough, even though the damage that was inflicted on him so long ago, his voice kept the rough tone to it. So ragged and rough. But now his voice is soft, so careful not to scare her away. He treats her as if she's a fragile thing, yet at the same time, he wouldn't smother her. She could leave the office right now and he wouldn't chase her. 

"I don't think so." 

Pushing his book aside, he looks at her. "Fred." 

"What?" She asks quickly, letting out a breath, smiling nervously. She doesn't know why she's nervous. She looks over her shoulder, as if expecting -- her mind flashes back to their kiss. The way she had looked over her shoulder while they were talking, so scared Gunn would show up. So scared of him, not knowing why exactly. 

"Expecting someone to jump out of the shadows?" 

"Not anymore." 

Wesley smiles slightly. 

"What... what were you going to say?" She asks, looking at him curiously. 

"What I feel for you -- " 

"What you feel for me." She repeats in a slow tone, letting the words roll off the tip of her tongue. 

"Yes. What I feel for you -- I never wanted it to confuse you the way it has. It's not sweet and innocent, you know. I don't mean to scare you." 

She's silent. 

"But it's not sweet. I watch you. I think about you. And this is the part where I'm supposed to say sorry, where I'm supposed to be sorry for complicating things even further. But I'm not. Because I watch you and all I want to do is be with you. You can't possibly know how it feels." He stops, peering at her, he notices the bruise on her cheek, from when Gunn had accidentally hit her. He frowns. "Does it hurt?" 

"What? Oh. Not anymore. Not really." 

"You're beautiful." 

"No m'not." 

He sighs, leaning back in his seat, still watching her. 

"Anything new with the books?" she asks, grabbing one of his books, flipping through it. 

"No. What did you come here for?" 

Fred looks up, startled by his question, she lets out a breath. "I forget." 

"Have something to do with me?" 

"Possibly." 

Pursing his lips, Wesley nodded. "How I feel for you?" 

"Yes." 

Crossing his arms across his chest, Wesley nodded again. "How you feel for me?" 

She nodded. 

"You watch me too." He said, in a matter of fact tone. 

"Yes." 

Leaning over, Wesley took his book out of Fred's hand and placed it on the desk. He then pushed himself up and walked over to her, he watched her slightly back up. He smiled dryly. "Are you afraid of me?" 

"No, not really." 

"Oh good, I -- " 

"You're pretty. Why haven't I realized this before? You're so pretty." 

Wesley chuckled lightly, but his surprise is evident in his eyes. "I would hope I was manly looking. A bit rugged. Men aren't supposed to be pretty." 

"You're pretty." she says with a quick nod. Letting out a nervous breath, she walks closer to Wesley, noting he hadn't moved from his place when he saw her back up. "So very pretty. I'm scared, you know. For Angel's soul. For Gunn. For Cordelia. For Connor. For all those people, who have no idea what's going to happen. For everyone who is going to lose everything when everything ends." 

"They have no idea what is going to happen to them." Wesley reached his hand out and touched Fred's cheek, watching her wince. 

"Don't stop watching over me." 

"I watch you." 

She smiles slightly. "This is the part where I'm supposed to be afraid of how you feel for me." 

"Why aren't you?" 

Fred leans her forehead against Wesley's. "Because when you watch me, I feel like for once everything is how it's supposed to be. Don't stop watching me." 

"You remember why you came in here yet?" 

"To ask you to spend these last days with you." 

There was a soft silence, before he spoke. "I thought that answer was fairly obvious." 


End file.
